


Wisps of Memory

by Theis54321



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Dubious Morality, Gen, Introspection, One Shot, War, ambiguous setting, non-graphic mentions of death, short read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26578204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theis54321/pseuds/Theis54321
Summary: They called you a hero. But that wasn’t quite right, was it?-----Something angsty to try to get past a bad rut of writer's block, and it's a bit short. Nothing too graphic within, just the musings of a so-called "hero".





	Wisps of Memory

You fought for justice, once. 

It has been a long, long time since then.

The years have not been kind, that much is evident. Cities destroyed, livelihoods shattered, families erased. And yet, the war machine marches on. There is no rest for the loyal soldier, nor the calculating general, much less for you.

Every week, a report falls from the chains of command beneath you, to reveal to you the casualties lost, the ground gained, and what remains to be accomplished. You’ve stopped reading them a long time ago. No reason to, not when you can see for yourself.

You find yourself at the site of a burning city today. The latest in but an assembly line of targets for the rebellion. Never mind the slaughter that you see before you. The bodies do not matter. It is just as the reports would say; nothing but numbers, in the long run.

The smell of burning ash is in the air. You’ve long since gotten accustomed to it, at least. The freedom-fighters still returning home, however, are not. They struggle to breathe in the choking aura of the city streets, a consequence of their own weaponry. Stolen weaponry, of course, but none complain when it is in the name of ending a cruel regime.

A cruel regime…

That’s right, isn’t it? The enemy you’ve been railing against for so long. Once, you were but a single commoner among many, another face in the crowd. Destined to disappear in the grinding gears of the empire’s factories. You had simple aspirations back then. Maybe scrounge enough funds to stop having to scrounge every scrap of food. Perhaps even start a family, if you were lucky enough.

Things weren’t that simple, now were they?

Much has happened since then. The rise of the rebellion. A chance for freedom. Something worth fighting for, even if it meant giving up your life.

But was it still worth it?

You snap out of your reminiscence, and realize that you’ve been walking aimlessly for quite a while now. You’re far from the camp, not that there is any danger now that the empire’s forces have been put down in the area.

There are more bodies here. Can’t ignore them, when there is so many. Most of them are clad in the signature gold-grey attire of the empire, ignored and left to rot. How many of these men had families, you wonder? Were they once like you, perhaps…?

It doesn’t matter.

The air tastes of abandonment as you leave the bodies behind.


End file.
